Take Me to the Rave Who: Helena with some Babs, tag for Dick Where: The streets of Old Town, Gotham When: After this What: On patrol
Huntress' sleek motorbike throbbed a reassuring and exhilarating thrum between her legs as she roared out of the tunnel that led to the subbasement beneath the Clock Tower, busting out into the cool air of the falling night, her hair blowing loosely about her shoulders, her mask keeping it out of her face. "I have you on GPS," Barbara informed her coolly and Helena could tell that she'd already snapped into professional mode. "Heading south, bearing ten degrees; my intel says you should run into trouble about three blocks away from Arkham."
"Got it," answered Helena, leaning on the accelerator. She was going so fast that the city was one dark blur around her, streaked with glowing light, neon in every color. She wondered what Dick was to Barbara, or vice versa as she had a pretty good idea that Barbara had, at least at one point in her life, had a huge crush on Nightwing. She wondered if she would ever be let in on the secret of Batman's identity, if he would ever accept her or if the person who had changed her life, whom she had fashioned herself upon, would always be looking down his cowl at her. She wondered if that made him a hypocrite.
With a sudden start, she pulled her bike up and spun to a halt. She was in the Narrows, always a hotbed for crime, but this was far more organized than what she was used to. This looked to her like a rave, which was innocent enough save for the fact that seemingly everyone participating was dressed as their favorite Gotham criminal mastermind. "Oh, Oracle," she said under her breath, "I wish you could see how fucked up all this is."